High tides and low lives

The sharp-pitched and sometimes deep tone of your voice still replays itself, asking if the solid black turtle neck [like the other ten you owned] is maganda ba. In my head, these one-sided “could have been” conversations loop, and all I can ask for is to hear you one more time. But as time passes, the fading memories of when our lives intertwined cling to the remnants of my cerebrum while gently letting go of muted grief through mundane actions of just growing up.

June 16, 2015: What started started as a splash in a shallow puddle grew into a wreck too deep to stand in. The more I fight against the current to float, the more I am anchored to the bottom by what-if’s and maybe’s. And as the emptiness of the dark waters steal every last bit of innocent life from my tar-filled lungs, the lifeless weight of my body sinks into a wasted abyss of lost hope. I never did not know how swim.

They say your life flashes before your eyes when reaching the beginning of the end, but only a handful of snippets from an abandoned time flicker, like a broken strobe light, in front of mine. And as I’m anticipating the impact of this long yet fast drop, I remembered that quote you made me memorize for five dollars years ago. “Life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it.” So after falling for what feels like almost 1,460 feet, I relax every muscle and let Mother Nature take care of the rest.

Just go with the flow; the waves will calm down on its own.

My mind plays tricks on me, envisioning a future with you in it. In and out of awareness, I contemplate whether this road I’ve taken is the one you had wished for, if not, better. It’s too soon to forget, yet also too late to still feel your presence — eyes wide open.